The Courts of Love: The Story of Eleanor of Aquitaine (41 page)

“You talk nonsense.”

“Nonsense to you, Henry, would be good sense to some. We shall wait and see.”

“You always brought trouble. I was a fool ever to take up with you.”

“Aquitaine you thought worth it.”

“And England for you.”

“I care nothing for England. I care only for my children.”

“So you have become the good mother, have you?”

“Ever since my children were born, I have been the good mother.”

“You were certainly the fruitful one.”

“An excellent thing in queens, is it not? I will tell you something: I know our son Henry. He is very young. He should never have been crowned in his father’s lifetime. But you did not consult me. You did not consult me over the appointment of Becket to the archbishopric of Canterbury. Nor would you listen to your mother         .         .         .”

His face was scarlet with rage. I thought: He is going to fall down and bite the hangings. I did not care if he did.

I went on: “No. You knew best         .         .         .         so you thought. But let us not brood on past errors. Let us look ahead. You have made him a King. Now he must be treated as one. You cannot send him back to the schoolroom. Give him a little power. Keep the reins on him but do not treat him as a child.”

“Give him power! Let that young know-nothing ruin my kingdom!”

“He was at the head of affairs while you were in Ireland.”

Henry laughed. “You know that not to be so. He had no power whatsoever. As if I would leave an untutored boy to govern England. Everything was left to the justiciars and de Luci. That is what he complains of. That is what angers him now that he has ideas beyond his capacities.”

“But don’t you see? You gave him a grand coronation. He has been crowned with Marguerite. You cannot expect him to remain as he was.”

“He is worthless. He thinks of nothing but enjoying life. It is all sport and banquets         .         .         .         fine clothes         .         .         .         hunting and hawking. He learned that from you. I have told him that is not kingship. He has much to learn before he can take part in government. I had high hopes of him once. He seemed to be shaping well.” His eyes narrowed. “Then he was with you. He was there in that Court with the troubadours of yours         .         .         .         those lily-livered poets who have no thought beyond turning a pretty verse. You have done this. You have ruined him         .         .         .         as you are ruining the others.”

“It is you who have ruined Henry with your crowning.”

“Nay, he would have been well enough         .         .         .         but he has ideas of a fancy Court with men parading themselves like peacocks, and the most important thing in life to make love to women through pretty verses.”

“Unlike his father, making love among the hay or in frowsty tavern wenches’ beds.”

He laughed again. “You give too much importance to these little things.”

“Not as much as you obviously gave, considering your numerous illegitimate children scattered all over the country.”

“Have done. You are of an age now to have finished with jealousy.”

“Jealous! Of you! I am glad to be rid of you. I would rather die than share a bed with you.”

“Never fear. You will not be forced to make that grand gesture. Your life is safe from me         .         .         .         as is your body.”

“I am glad of that.”

“And listen to me. I do not want my sons Richard and Geoffrey turned against me as you have tried to turn Henry.”

“My sons, Richard and Geoffrey, form their own opinions and if they have formed such of you which you do not like, do not blame me but look to yourself.”

“I can see that you and I will never agree.”

“Then at last you are seeing some truth.”

With that I left him.

Richard had been waiting for me. He was growing very suspicious of his father and knew how things stood between us. The scandal about Rosamund Clifford had reached his ears and he was ready to spring to my defense. He thought his father uncouth in dress and manners, and I was very touched because he was ready to go into battle on my account.

“You are angry,” he said. “The King has been worrying you.” He looked so bellicose that I laughed.

“I will kill him if he hurts you,” he said.

I laid my hand on his arm. I said: “Do not let him hear you say such a thing. It could be called treason. And, my dearest, I can look after myself. I need no defense.”

“But you hate him. I hate him, too. So does Geoffrey, I think.”

“And your brother Henry is turning against him.”

“John will be the only one who does not hate him,” said Richard. “And he is too young to know. I expect he will, too, when he gets older.”

I said: “We shall have to wait and see. I shall be glad when this Christmas is over.”

“And we go back to Poitiers.”

“You love the place, don’t you?” Richard nodded.

“One day it will be yours, entirely. Your brother Henry longs for the crown but it will never be his while his father lives. Perhaps he hopes that won’t be long. I hope you do not harbor the same thoughts about me.”

Richard was horrified, and I knew his emotion was genuine.

“Please do not talk so, dearest Mother,” he said. “Life would be empty for me without you.”

He meant it. That was how it was between us.

And as soon as possible I left with him and Geoffrey for Poitiers.

It seemed that no sooner had we returned than we received another summons from the King. This time it was to join him in Limoges. The reason for this was ratification of the contract between Humbert’s daughter Alice and John.

It was a long time since Henry had set foot in my province, and I was going to make him aware that he came as my guest—although I had not invited him.

There was a big gathering. Young Henry and Marguerite were there and John, the prospective bridegroom, had been brought forth. There was also Alais, daughter of Louis, who was to marry Richard when she was old enough. Alais was a very attractive girl and I was glad for Richard.

Henry was never happier than when making marriage plans which would bring him gain.

He behaved to me as though we had not had our differences at Chinon.

“I very much want this marriage,” he said. “I know Maurienne is small but it is of strategic importance. It lies south of Lake Geneva and extends almost to the Gulf of Genoa. There one could control Italy. Oh yes, I attach great importance to this.”

All was going well when Humbert seemed suddenly to change his mind. There were Henry’s other sons: Henry, crowned King of England; Richard with Aquitaine; Geoffrey with Brittany; and what had John? His father had called him “Lackland.” Humbert was beginning to wonder what sort of bargain he was making.

Henry was greatly disturbed. There must be no hitch. He immediately added three castles in Anjou to John’s inheritance. Humbert was satisfied, but there was one who was not.

Our newly created King had inherited Anjou, and he was not going to stand by and see his castles given to a younger brother. He immediately rose and declared before the assembly that he would never give up his castles.

The King laughed and turning to Humbert said: “Take no notice of my son. He is but a boy. The castles are John’s. I say so, and my word is law.”

He managed to convince Humbert.

Young Henry was furious. He came to me.

“I am tired of it,” he said. “He treats me like a child. He arranges everything         .         .         .         even my friends. I was crowned King and I do not have the rights of the humblest of those about me. I will not endure it. I will not. I am the King.” A crafty look came into his eyes. “And there are those who would support me,” he added.

I could imagine that. Oh, what trouble lay ahead for my arrogant husband, who thought he knew everything and could do so much better than anyone else?

“I am tired of living with him,” said Henry. “I shall come to Aquitaine         .         .         .         and one day         .         .         .         one day         .         .         .         I am going to claim my kingdom.”

Richard came in while he was talking and stood listening, his eyes shining. “He has been cruel to our mother,” he said. “I will stand with you.”

“Then I’ll do it,” said Henry.

There were dreams in his eyes, wild dreams. He would dream rather than achieve, I thought. But I could not help but be pleased by their criticism of their father.

I was looking forward to returning to Poitiers. These meetings with Henry were always disturbing. Our quarrels stimulated me, but during them I would see a cold and calculating light in his eyes as though he had plans for me. I knew he would be capable of anything and that I had to be wary of him.

My son Henry really hated him now. He said: “I will come with you when you leave. I will not stay with my father to be treated like a child.”

He was often with Richard and they talked against the King frequently. It was their favorite topic. They were working up a hatred against him. Young Henry said that several influential people in England were tired of the King’s rule. They talked of the days of Stephen when men were more free. “Free to roam the countryside and be robbed,” I might have said, for wise men should know that Henry’s laws had made the country a safer place to live in. But I could not bring myself to say a good word for my husband.

When the time came for us to depart, there was a scene.

Young Henry said he was coming with us.

“No,” replied the King. “You are mistaken. You are coming with me.”

“I prefer to go with my mother.”

“And I prefer you to stay with me.”

“Why should I         .         .         .         ?”

“Because I say so.”

“I am the King.”

“
I
am the King. You are my son and, if you deserve the honor, in due course you shall wear the crown. But you will have to be tutored for such a position and that is what I am going to do. That is why you will not go to your mother’s Court. You will not be playing in tournaments and pageants, singing and dancing and frittering away your time. You will be learning the art of kingship.”

“I refuse.”

The King laughed. “And I could put you under restraint until you calmed down.”

“You would not dare.”

The King’s eyes had grown steely. He went to Henry and held his arm in such a grip that the boy winced. “There is nothing I will not do to purge you of your folly. You will be under restraint most certainly if you do not take care.”

He could be very formidable, and the boy, though sullen, was afraid of his father.

Richard, Geoffrey and I left for Poitiers without him.

I heard news from time to time.

Young Henry was being recalcitrant, and the King was behaving very sternly toward him. His intimate friends, whom the King did not trust, were dismissed. Henry was not allowed to go out without a guard; he could almost be said to be under arrest.

I could imagine the resentment smoldering. The final outrage was that Henry should sleep in his father’s room.

One day a messenger came to us with news. Young Henry had escaped.

He and his father had reached Chinon. Perhaps the King was growing old and was more exhausted than he used to be by hours in the saddle. They had retired for the night, young Henry sleeping as usual in his father’s room. In the early hours of the morning while the King was in a deep sleep, his son slipped out of the room. He must have had helpers in the castle for horses were waiting for him.

I could picture Henry’s rage when he realized what had happened. He would immediately set about bringing the boy back. He could not have gone far and it seemed they must soon find him.

The chase went on for three days, but young Henry managed to elude his pursuers, and finally he crossed the border into France and made his way at once to Louis, his father-in-law, from whom he could accept help.

When the King reached the French border and realized where his son had gone, he immediately sent messengers to the French Court. Louis would understand that there had been a little family misunderstanding. He wanted the boy to be told that if he returned they would discuss together how to settle their differences.

Louis’s reply amused me as it must have others. He asked from whom the message came.

“From the King of England,” was the reply.

“That cannot be so,” said Louis in mock bewilderment. “The King of England is here at my Court. You must mean the former King of England, for everyone knows that he is no longer King because he resigned his kingdom to his son.”

That should teach Henry a lesson. Oh, how he must be gnashing his teeth to contemplate his folly!

I waited for what would happen next, and to my surprise young Henry arrived in Aquitaine.

He was full of plans. His father was too old to rule. It was his turn. He wanted his brothers to join him. He would make his father see that he would have no more of this treatment. He could get people to stand with him.

My son was young and reckless, but there were others watching the growing tension with eager eyes. Louis was one. He had been casting anxious eyes on Henry Plantagenet for a long time. In Aquitaine, Brittany and even England, men were stirring themselves. The taxes were crippling. It was true Henry spent little on himself and that the money went in services to the country, but Henry’s perpetual wars were costly and people in England were simply not interested in them. They wanted a king who would rule them and not one who must continually protect far-flung dominions which always seemed to be on the verge of revolt.

In fact, his sons were not the only ones who were ready to rise against Henry.

He was always at his most resourceful when he scented danger. I believed he did not take this desertion of his son seriously and had confidence in his ability to get the better of the petulant youth. He sent an order to the Archbishop of Rouen which showed me that he at last understood that I had great influence over my sons. If I would return to him, bringing our children, we could resume our old relationship, which he was eager to do.